Part 81 (2/2)
”N-no--not yet.”
”I could have married Mr Napper a month ago--in fact he begged me on his knees to,” bridled Miss Meakin.
”Why didn't you?”
”We're going to his aunt's at Littlehampton for the honeymoon, but I'm certainly not going till it's the season there.”
Mavis smiled.
”Would you?” asked Miss Meakin.
”Not if that sort of thing appealed to me.”
When Miss Meakin had explained that she had got up late because she had been to a ball the night before, Mavis told her the reason of her visit, at which Miss Meakin declared that Mr Napper was the very man to help her. Mavis asked for his address. While her friend was writing it down, a violent commotion was heard descending the stairs and advancing along the pa.s.sage. Mavis rightly guessed this was caused by the forcible ejection of the lodger who had failed with his rent.
To Mavis' surprise, Miss Meakin did not make any reference to this disturbance, but went on talking as if she were living in a refined atmosphere which was wholly removed from possibility of violation.
”There's one thing I should tell you,” said Miss Meakin, as Mavis rose to take her leave. ”Mr Napper's employer, Mr Keating, besides being a solicitor, sells pianos. Mr N. is expecting a lady friend, who is thinking of buying one 'on the monthly,' so mind you explain what you want.”
”I won't forget,” said Mavis, making an effort to go. But as voices raised in angry altercation could be heard immediately outside the front door, Miss Meakin detained Mavis, asking, in the politest tone, advice on the subject of the most fas.h.i.+onable material to wear at a select dinner party.
”I've quite given up 'Browning,'” she told Mavis, ”he's so old-fas.h.i.+oned to up-to-date people. Now I'm going to be Mrs Napper, when the Littlehampton season comes round, I'm going in exclusively for smartness and fas.h.i.+on.”
Mavis making as if she would go, and the disturbance not being finally quelled, Miss Meakin begged Mavis to stay to lunch. She repeatedly insisted on the word lunch, as if it conveyed a social distinction in the speaker.
Mavis had got as far as the door, when it burst open and an elderly woman of considerable avoirdupois broke into the room, to sink helplessly upon a flimsy chair which creaked ominously with its burden.
Miss Meakin introduced this person to Mavis as her aunt, Mrs Scatchard, and reminded the latter how Mavis had rescued her niece from the clutches of the bogus hospital nurse in Victoria Street so many months back.
”That you should call today of all days!” moaned the perspiring Mrs Scatchard.
”Why not today?” asked her niece innocently.
”The day I'm disgraced to the neighbourhood by a 'visitor' being turned out of doors.”
”I knew nothing of it,” protested Miss Meakin.
”And Mr Scatchard being a government official, as you might say.”
”Indeed!” remarked Mavis, who was itching to be off.
”Almost a pillar of the throne, as you might say,” moaned the poor woman.
”True enough,” murmured her niece.
”A man who, as you might say, has had the eyes of Europe upon him.”
”Ah!” sighed Miss Meakin.
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